


show me a hero

by shepherd



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: ...does it count if the sex isn't outside i suppose it doesnt but im tagging it thanks, Anal Sex, Anniversary, Canonical Character Death, Caretaking, Chapter Four is AU where nothing badhappens Ever thanks, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gladio Fluff Week 2018, Grief/Mourning, Growing Old, Hobbies, Husbands, Loud Sex, M/M, Minor Injuries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rain, Rain Sex, Sibling Bonding, Suggestive Themes, Tumblr Prompt, Unsafe Sex, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, hair petting, no one you know promise, soft Gladio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: A collection of fics under 1000 words for Gladio Fluff Week 2018. Complete.DAY SEVEN: FREE DAYGladio’s chin was tickled by Ignis’ hair. Sometimes Gladio thought Ignis was made to fit against his chest, just shorter than him enough lay comfortably and listen to his heart. Other couples around them found those who had fit with them perfectly, hand slotting into hand and smiles made just for each other.





	1. cuddles

Since the day Gladio had made his oaths and taken up the mantle of Crownsguard and since his very first day getting his ass beat by Cor on the training mats, it had been drilled into his head - arms wrapping themselves behind him were always bad news. They meant constriction, being hauled backwards or wrestled to one side. Pinned and trapped, what even the shittiest of Shields should never be.

He was still technically trapped that morning, he supposed, but it didn’t seem quite as world ending if it was only Ignis’ smug face above him, pinning him back down onto their bed.

“And where do you think you’re going,” Ignis asked, a familiar teasing lilt to his voice, far more awake than Gladio had assumed when he tried to swing his legs out of bed. Eyes sharp and alert, Ignis wore a classic shit eating smirk. Ever since Gladio’s six thirty alarm had rung and promptly been beaten into submission Ignis had lay silently. Not a single twitch. Not even a breath. Fortune had smiled upon Gladio that morning, he thought, and he was finally able to bring his lover breakfast in bed like he had wanted for so long. Gladio had thought plenty of things. All of them apparently inept.

Ignis’ confident hands held his wrists. On each side of Gladio’s thick thighs his knees kept him propped and steady, his legs forced wide. Heat ebbed off of him. Loose hair hung down into his eyes. Every single part of him, his bare chest and the subtle trail of fine hair that trailed down to disappear into his low boxers looked utterly delectable. Better than any meal Gladio could have conjured, even if his stomach was close to furiously growling.

Gladio scrunched up his face. It might have been childish but it was all he could do. It wasn’t as if he was going to shove his lover away. “Was gonna get up and make you breakfast, like a good boyfriend,” he grunted, and willed his heart to know peace. It thundered inside his chest. Feeling like prey wasn’t uncommon when it came to Ignis. “Guess I’ll just stay here. Ain’t gonna complain.”

It was habit for Ignis to bear his pearly whites when he smiled. They were perfectly straight and very white. “Why bother getting out of bed when I have breakfast right here?”

Ah, Gladio thought. Ignis was in that kind of a mood.  As poor as that line was it spoke volumes about the wonderful day Gladio was going to have if Ignis was hungry for him before their bedside clock even read seven am.

He matched the grin. “Didn’t get enough of me last night?”

A devouring kiss was his answer. Gladio didn’t think a lifetime of Ignis would be nearly enough. Ignis nipped at his lower lip petulantly, and hard enough to earn Gladio’s hands cupping his ass, squeezing firmly in the only warning Ignis was going to get. He had slipped his underwear back on the night before, after his shower, out of some strange long term habit. Having to slip away to clean the sticky mess that Gladio had made inside him was their leave favourite part, but the rush of making it in the first place was their favourite. Ignis rode him hard, rising and falling on his lap and moaning as if they weren’t fucking almost every damn night.

But Gladio’s thick fingers slid beneath the clinging fabric, groping and caressing. Ignis sighed softly when Gladio felt along his hole, teasing lighter than he had last.

“Always hungry for it, huh?” Gladio rumbled, but leant up to kiss the lobes of Ignis’ ears, continuing until Ignis’ cheeks were flushed a blotchy and uneven red. “Always wanna just stay in bed and bounce on my cock.”

Ignis’ pupils had dilated. They were blown so wide there was only a fine ring of green remaining. There were marks over his chest and throat, various purples and yellows alongside pink welts left from scrabbling nails. But Ignis gave as good as he got. Gladio was matched bite for bite. 

Ignis’ body gave him all the answers and enthusiasm he needed. A prominent bulge had formed in Ignis’ boxers, the kind that Gladio rubbed his cheek across, the fabric the softest he had ever known and Ignis shivering at his touch, the promise of more. Ignis lay low against his body to feel his heat, cocks meeting, both heavy and hardening and Gladio could only laugh.

“Got nothing important due?” Gladio asked, still stroking where Ignis was the softest and warmest, and when Ignis shook his head furiously fast he only snorted, rising up and lifting Ignis without even a strain on his muscles. Feeling how Ignis’ breath caught somewhere in between his lungs and his throat was just a taster to how he was going to make Ignis writhe and gasp. “Good,” Gladio said, and threw Ignis down on their bed to waste the morning hours.


	2. first kiss

There was something heaven sent about the Amicitia boy, Ignis knew. Some blessing of serene protection and glory bestowed upon him at birth. It was the only way that any of this made sense.

Gladio stood at his own door with that same easy smile, hands in his jacket pockets and his head bowed, as to not hit his head on the porch. Some men grew too tall too fast. There was a ketchup stain on his graphic tee. The collar of his jacket was turned up in a sloppy style that just bordered the edge of lazy, and Gladio didn’t care. Despite everything Ignis found it difficult to feel much ire. 

It was all lost in how Gladio looked down at Ignis as if he was the only thing worth knowing in all of Eos.

“This is me,” Gladio said as if it wasn’t painfully obvious, the impressively ostentatious manor with a complex and ornate rooftop, rows of colourful shrubbery carefully maintained and statuettes at every corner. Lights made the garden glow and they caught Gladio’s face, making his skin glow. He grinned, and despite the gnawing anxiety in Ignis’ belly he couldn’t help but urge himself to return that smile.

While the late evening bore a terrible chill Ignis’s shirt stuck to his back with nervous sweat. His collar felt much too constrictive. Gladio’s beautiful eyes were steady on his and Ignis’ couldn’t bear to meet them. “Thank you for agreeing to spend the evening with me.”

A single brow arched high. “Like a few hours in your company was gonna be torture?”

Always so direct. Ignis cleared his throat. “I know you have a great many things to do, is all. Many people wanting your attention. So many duties.”

With a shrug, Gladio waved it away like smoke, cutting through Ignis’ inadequacies. His seemingly constant state of relaxation was awe inspiring. “None of them and none of that matters when it’s you, Iggy.”

There were many people in the Amicitia household. All of which Ignis held in the greatest of esteems, even little Talcott who clung to his jacket with hands sticky with jam. A window high above them was propped open and if they were overheard Ignis would surely curl up and die from the embarrassment, even as the happiness coiled inside him to stay for as long as he lived.

Averting his eyes, Ignis cleared his throat. His salmon was no longer sitting as comfortably as it used to. “That’s kind of you to say,” Ignis replied. Kind of him, when Ignis had stumbled into their restaurant a good thirty minutes tardy with a fistful of excuses - a meeting than overran, heavier traffic than he had expected, a phone that would not cease misbehaving when he had tried to bring up Gladio’s contact. And Gladio had only stood, touched his arm in greeting and murmured that it was  _ okay, Ignis, just settle down and relax.  _ Sat with him again and pushed his wallet aside as if he wasn’t intending to pay for his two finished drinks and wander home aimlessly with an aching, confused heart. Ignis melted into his chair and apologised a thousand times. In turn Gladio had ordered him a drink and recommended the salmon that had been so delicious.

Against the garden lights a dark shadow fell. Gladio, stepping closer, and warm hands against his biceps. “Iggy,” he said, and his soft tone inspired him to look up and meet his gaze. Warm amber inspired him to finally hold it. Gladio’s thumbs stroked through Ignis’ creased work clothes -  _ Astrals, _ he hadn’t even had time to change his old clothes, what a meal he had made of what had supposed to be a perfect occasion - and rumbled, down low in his chest. It was a thing that Ignis had heard many time before from many others. From Cor, whenever he spotted his husband from across the room and swept over to stand by his side. From Nyx, when Libertus and Crowe surged forward to claim a cheek each to softly kiss. It was contentment, Ignis knew. “I had a great time. Thank you.”

All embarrassment over the Lord of the Amicitia household potentially eavesdropping only a single story up faded to the background in the face of Gladio’s sincerity. Ignis reached forward to brush the fabric of Gladio’s shirt. He held onto it, as tight as he dared. He tried to laugh, though it emerged as more of a unsteady exhale.

“So did I,” he breathed. Gladio’s cologne filled his nose. So close, he could see an escaped eyelash on Gladio’s cheek and an ingrown hair on his jaw. So close, Ignis could do anything. “I would love to do it again, sometime. Soon.”

It might have only been a few inches between them, but Gladio seemed as towering and insurmountable as any mountain. He had never seemed further and yet closer. Only his soft lips were within reach. Just a press of his tiptoes -

“Me too,” Gladio murmured, and Ignis could feel his hot breath on Gladio’s lips as he teetered ever closer. His eyes fell to glance at Ignis’ own parted lips, lingering for what seemed to be forever, and Ignis’ heart only had a moment to skip one vital beat before Gladio ducked down to steal his lips away, soft and sweet.

  
  



	3. perfect big brother

Ice cream was not Gladio’s treat of choice. The likely threat of agonizing brain freeze was all too real and it melted far too quickly, leaving a sticky mess against his fingertips. Cold, sugary soup was not Gladio’s idea of a good time - cookies were more his scene. But ice cream was what Iris wanted, and it was what Iris would receive.

Her glass was nearly double the size of his and inside was an obnoxious purple. Streaks of electric blue and pale pink sauces drenched it. Smooth, vibrant multi coloured bubblegum balls dotted it - or at least, they had. Iris was spooning away eager mouthfuls like she was searching for some hidden prize. She was already almost finished with her order. Gladio had only managed a few careful bites, searching for more banana and as little toffee as possible in his banoffee sundae. 

There was a permanent smell of burning sugar in the place. It seemed to permeate the whole of the busy central street the dessert cafe sat upon. Not even the smell of exhaust or the nearby Duscaen food market could rid the world of the nausea inducing scent. It was a stroke of luck that Gladio has a stomach of iron.

Smaller mercies came to them in the form of daylight. The windows were tall and wide across the restaurant. Gladio never sat by the windows - it was safer that way, in any event. But it streamed through and across their cramped table, and the staff hadn’t turned on the garish lights that adorned the walls. Gladio knew them well. He remembered blinding birthdays made up of too many teen girls all too intensely.

Eager eyes glanced up at him. They quickly fell to his sundae. “Not hungry?”

Immediately he curled his hand around the tiny glass stem and pulled it closer. Cloying as it was he needed the energy boost. Plus, it had cost a pretty gil. “Don’t even think about it.

Iris laughed. It carried over the soft pop playing overhead and through the quiet establishment, soothing the restless parts of Gladio’s mind. At one in the afternoon few people longed for syrup and cream.

She fell back into her food like they had never spoken. Already there were the remains of her chocolate milkshake and an empty plate from her leiden berry cake not yet cleared. The cost was beginning to pile up, no doubt alongside her much needed dental work, but Gladio wouldn’t attempt to tease. Better that Iris be huddled up groaning and rubbing her heavy belly later than be quietly sobbing again, clinging to her brother’s tank. Her cheeks were still blotchy and red. 

Gladio watched her. In his Crownsguard issue hoodie she appeared laughably small. Yet she piled away everything within her reach and he knew full well his sundae would be amongst her victims in time. He would let her take whatever she wanted.

“Any better?” He asked, and to her credit she barely faltered. Her only sign of resistance was the way her spoon struck glass as her hands trembled. 

Lips pursing, she began to jab at what little remained. A sigh worked its way free. “Yeah, a little, I guess.” A chunk of ice burst apart underneath her concentration. Ice chips splintered and melted into the rest of the mess. Then, she popped a canary yellow bubblegum ball in her mouth. “Thanks. For making sure I didn’t go alone, I mean.”

Gladio simply shrugged. “I hadn’t visited mom in a while, either.” So many things to do. Everything should have paled in importance for the dead. But the living were so much more demanding, and so much louder. A child nearby squealed with laughter as a parent coaxed yoghurt into their mouth. “She’ll be happier now we came. Tomb’s neater. There’s only so much the custodians can do.”

“I hope so,” Iris seemed to wonder out loud rather than reply. Her eyes were exhausted, deeply bloodshot. It was all too obvious what she had tried to cover with makeup. “Couldn’t stop thinking about her last night. I’m just really sorry I made you cancel that date you were chasing for ages.”

Gladio sat to attention the way his father had ingrained in him. He shifted forward over his sunday and touched Iris’ hand with care. Her skin was warm and there was still dirt under her chipped nails. Iris was not afraid of getting messy, as graceful as she often looked. “Hey,” he said, softly as he could. “You didn’t make me cancel anything. I did it myself. No man means more to me than my baby sister, okay?”

Iris nodded dutifully, even if she didn’t seem quite convinced. “Yeah,” she murmured, and somehow made a spoonful of sweetness seem downcast. 

Gladio watched Iris slowly eat in the quiet. It was rare to see her deflated. Very often she looked pensive and occasionally she was smug beyond reasonable amounts. But a smile was never far. Seeing her brows knit hurt him more than he could bear. 

There was only one thing for it.

Gladio rolled his eyes, and after Iris scraped the last remains of her sundae into her mouth he pushed his own glass toward her. Iris’ eyes lowered onto it with a sudden, fierce intensity. The eyes he knew too well - the eyes of a ravenous Amicitia.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t scheming for this since the moment we sat down,” Gladio teased with a wry, lopsided smile, and his heart lightened seeing Iris’ blooming grin. 


	4. surprisingly gentle/hair petting

The long and prominent line of Gladiolus’ bold nose was obviously crooked. Charming, some would say. Unseemly was a word that the very cruelest amongst them would use. Up close Ignis could follow the familiar and fine white line, the pronounced edge of a white scar against dark skin. A small chunk of flesh had been torn with the thoughtless and drunken flash of a blade all those years ago. They had been barely children and Gladio’s face was scarred in barely enough time to recognise anything had been wrong. It was still difficult for Ignis to will away the anxiety whenever he thought of that evening. Even now, well over a decade later, Ignis could still recall the heat of Gladio’s blood.

Now it was a part of him Ignis knew intimately. Kisses fell easily there. Stroking the pads of his fingers down the healed bone, Ignis watched as his lover melted into nothingness, eyes drifted shut. Long lashes lie against his soft cheeks.

Gods. Gladiolus was beautiful.

It was times like these that Ignis felt like the luckiest man in all of Eos. Even if he was so sweaty the tips of his hair were plastered to his forehead and dripping into his burning eyes. And Gladio fared no better - so close, Ignis could see every single pore and the sheen of sweat against his temples. Lestallum felt ablaze. Even in the shade of the grand buildings the heat was oppressive, the two of them cowering in a cramped alleyway for just a few minutes to escape the worst. Tragically most had steaming valves and large fans blowing hot air towards them. There was nowhere to be comfortable. From past adventures, Ignis recalled that not even the Leville could offer them much reprieve.

Humming softly, Ignis stroked once more along the bridge before moving to cup Gladio’s cheeks. He had neglected to shave. Again. The bristles of hair scratched his palms but Ignis could not be too put out - he could only dream of what that itch was going to do to his thighs when they got to their hotel.

Ignis drew in closer yet. Warm breath billowed on his lips. All the root beer Gladio had swigged at the restaurant down by the market was almost overwhelming his senses. A soft, chaste kiss, to be followed by another much less chaste. Gladio rumbled against him in sheer satisfaction. Arms wrapped around his waist and tugged him closer, seemingly ignorant or uncaring of Ignis’ sweaty mess. That was love, he supposed. Gladio ran agonizingly hot even in the coldest of winters and barely seconds later the hold was nigh unbearable. But love was Ignis simply chasing his lips without complaint. He nipped playfully at Gladio’s plump lower lip, taking in the taste of beer and beef when he kissed him against. Gladio laughed at his daring and matched his playfulness, pushing further and teasing his tongue into Ignis’ mouth. A decade ago they would have been at loathe to even kiss each other’s cheeks where they might be seen. Now they were too old and too far from home to care.

When they broke apart Ignis was rendered breathless. He remained close enough to count each eyelash and grinned, his lips pink. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Amicitia.”

As always, Gladio had to shake away the dazed fuzz that Ignis’ kisses had set deep in his brain. “Sorry, Igs?”

Groups passed them by. Tourists, citizens, merchants. In their own little world, neither man saw any of them wander by. Ignis moved to brush Gladio’s chestnut hair out of his face, longing to cover his sweet cheeks in more and more kisses until Gladio was laughing, flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. Tonight he would. But only after they had done all those filthy things Gladio had promised on nights in Insomnia when they were too exhausted to do much more than feed themselves and crawl into bed side by side.

“You know I dislike the humid heat,” Ignis chided him, and smoothed over Gladio’s thick, tightly curled mass of hair. It was remarkably soft. With all the bottles of expensive specialist product Gladio and Iris both brought to control their wild Amicitia hair it had to be. Ignis smiled, roguishly, tugging a little on the ends to get his undivided attention. “You just want me out of my clothes.”

The way Gladio threw back his head and laughed drew the eyes of the crowd. The way they were hidden away and twined together, Ignis’ long fingers threading into Gladio’s hair to stroke and bask in made those eyes linger. “You got me,” His lover declared, utterly shameless. Mischief darkened his wry eyes. A flash of his canines brought back nights of aches and moans, mornings of high collars and carefully applied concealer. “Is it working, gorgeous?”

As he worked his fingers into Gladio’s scalp, Ignis played at thoughtfulness. The man who melted so easily at the slightest affectionate touch purred and leaned into him, a great hulking and happy weight on Ignis’s shoulder. He nudged into Ignis’ hands in silent demands for the pleasure to never cease. It seemed his work was never done. Gladio had always been a fool for lazing around in their bed, having his hair pet and lips kissed. Anniversaries came along so rarely, and Ignis planned to give Gladio everything he ever wanted and more.

“I just might need a little help getting out of this stuffy shirt,” he murmured, just after Gladio began to squirm in his impatience, and a very different heat scalded their unguarded skin.

  
  
  



	5. rained in

The rain droned on, as it had for hours now, but the two of them together barely paid it any mind. It had been all they had heard for hours now - apologetic meteorologists with dour expressions describing a month’s worth of rain falling in a matter of hours. Thunder and hailstorms were commonplace but dull as it lashed their tall windows, soaking the few fools who dared to hurry out for chores in the overcast afternoon.

It dashed at their balcony. Gladio had half a mind to step out and enjoy the power of the storm on his vulnerable skin. It was on the warmth of Ignis’ own skin that kept him firmly in bed. A chill had crept into their room, assaulted them in their comforts but Ignis drew him deep inside, every part of him, his legs parted wide for Gladio to lay in between. There were fingers knotted in his hair and hungry lips locked to his. Ignis devoured his every moan. Gladio was helpless to the indescribable feeling of his cock sheathed inside his lover.

“Fuck me,” Ignis demanded when he finally released Gladio, hips lips swollen and slick. Pinned to their mattress by Glaidio’s cock he failed to remain coy. Such words sacrificed his dignity but very little pride remained. Writhing and wriggling against him. Ignis moaned like he could do nothing else, his own cock leaking between their stomachs. “Gladio…”

“Yeah,” Gladio murmured. When he drew back and his cock dragged against Ignis’ snug insides they both groaned raggedly. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the room. When Gladio pushed back inside only to withdraw yet again the delayed thunder seemed to shake them to their bones. “I got you - I got you, Igs.”

Ignis couldn’t be consoled with words alone. He rolled his hips down to meet Gladio’s every thrust. Their rhythm was sloppy in their desire. A kiss aimed for Ignis’ sweet mouth landed on his jaw - not to be dettered Gladio laved Ignis’ vulnerable throat with his tongue. Fine stubble scratched against him. He worked Ignis hard and soon despite the cold they were slippery with sweat, Ignis’ pale skin pink all over. Gladio refused to let up, hooking Ignis’ long legs up with the crook of his arms and bent his lover even further, pressing and pushing Ignis’ limits the way he knew he loved, and it made Ignis yell to the ceiling. Gladio sunk deeper still, losing himself in the pleasure of Ignis’ core and he grunted, kissing and biting, muffling his ecstasy into his lover’s skin.

They both knew full well Ignis was close to prayer. There were so many things Gladio wanted to do to push him over the edge. Squeezing and slapping Ignis’ ass to feel him clench hard around him was a longing he could barely contain. Ignis would fall apart for it, he knew. But making sure Ignis enjoyed him and took their time was his top priority. 

It took every trick in Gladio’s well read book. Gladio slowed his frantic pace and snapped his hips up harder. No more courtesy. He would make Ignis weep for him. Desperation was already building. Ignis’ muscles tensed and held, abs tight and biceps strained. The grip in his hair was agonizing and Ignis was choking on every breath when Gladio teased along his prostate. Moans and thunder filled the air. Outside the rain only seemed to worsen.

Tension struck and left its mark. He thought for one terrifying second that he wouldn’t be able to make Ignis come before he pulled a muscle like a man decades older. A blowjob to finish was a fine thing but Gladio longed to come inside, to mess him up like way Ignis liked best. But the Astrals looked kindly upon him. Before the coil of pleasure became too prevalent to ignore Ignis tensed, and then seized with strangled cries - and then he was coming, tightening and wailing his pleasure for all to hear. Gladio’s own stomach dropped a few feet, pleasurable warmth wracking his body as Ignis damn near tore clumps of his hair from his scalp. It was only a few more pulses and thrusts before Gladio tumbled after him, filling him entirely with his own yell.

He didn’t draw back right away. Ignis was warm and soft and wet inside, smelling like aloe vera and the world was bitterly cold. Gladio couldn’t get enough of him. He basked in Ignis’ throbbing heat and the rise and fall of his heaving chest until he had softened too much to stay inside. Slipping free, Gladio sighed as Ignis murmured in protest, drawing him closer with his strong legs, seemingly unconcerned at the come on his stomach and his thighs.

“Mm,” Ignis could only exhale, and when Gladio opened the eyes he hadn’t realised he had closed he could only laugh at the dazed, satisfied expression Ignis wore. Wild hair and flushed cheeks was a perfect look for him,

Stealing a kiss was simple instinct. Hearing Ignis purr against him was a delight. “Sorry we couldn’t hit the market,” he managed the moment he caught his breath. It took a hard clearing of his throat to correct the rawness of his voice. Somehow the rain had gotten worse. It beaded and rain down the window panes with still no end it sight. 

Fingers detached themselves from Gladio’s mussed hair. They trailed down the bumps of his spine. “Don’t fret,” he said with nary a hiccup, always ready becoming his cool and collected Ignis. One day he would have him babbling for hours if it took every shred of Gladio’s energy. A sated smile made the rain seem like a mere soundtrack to their afternoon. “This is better,” Ignis murmured, low and soft, “much better.”


	6. growing old (late)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one was late - i had a long shift at work and didn't have the energy to finish up, but hopefully the next one will be tomorrow (the 4th) or potentially the day after that! thank u

Visibly struggling to contain her laughter, Iris worked hard to paint her last remaining nail perfectly. Her brother would not ruin this for her. In a world were meaningless comforts were rare, finding a completely untouched bottle of fancy nail polish was one in a million and she would not squander this opportunity. Iris spread the plum coloured polish as evenly as she could -

“Ah, fuck,” Gladio hissed upon another slip of his uncertain hands and stuck his sluggishly bleeding thumb back into his mouth. His heavy brows knit together and the special carving knife clattered to the cramped kitchen table. Beads of blood chased the steel to the tip.

Iris’ own hands jerked in sudden surprise. Polish leaked out onto her skin and she swore breathlessly, ignoring the sharp look from her brother. It was nowhere near intimidating when he was sucking his thumb like a child. “Gladdy,” she scolded the exact way their mother used to, tone and pitch. Putting the bottle to one side, she pried the piece of wood out of his other hand. After an hour of work Gladio had little progress to speak of. Nor had he told her what it was supposed to be, and it wasn’t immediately obvious. To her it seemed to be a very wonky teardrop and now the lopsided wood was partially stained red.

Gladio may have been new to woodcarving, but he certainly wasn’t new to spilling blood and giving those who loved him permanent anxiety. 

Whining softly around his wounds, Gladio was the closest to a puppy he would ever be. Laving his tongue in an attempt to stop the bleeding, his eyes were mournful and downcast. Most of his fingers were scratched or cut. He had used nearly half of their very limited supply of plasters over the past few days simply for little injuries, mostly under Ignis’ insistence. Iris wondered what Ignis might think of his boyfriend now, taking Gladio’s rough hands only to be greeted with rougher plaster and bumps from foolhardy mistakes and reckless splinters.

She sighed and pushed her chair back. All that work and her nails would be ruined. Sweeping across their kitchen she called, “You never learn, do you, Gladdy?”

No answer. Only soft, muffled complaints. She snatched a spare plaster and pack of antibacterial wipes she had left out in her pessimism, quickly taking stock of what they had left - she had to ask Dave for more antiseptic, if he could spare any at all. It wouldn’t do to be caught unawares.

Then she had to brush the wood chips and dust off the table. Gladio had to count himself lucky that Ignis was away with the Marshal. Iris could only imagine the verbal hiding Gladio would receive.  _ This is where people eat _ , he would grouse with his trademark disdain, and it would take a thousand of Gladio’s soppiest and most simpering kisses before Ignis was smiling again. But the remains were tickling her nose and her brother, a grownass man was still forlorn as if this wasn’t completely his fault.

“Gimme,” she demanded, and Gladio pulled his thumb free with a pop. Wiping the slick digit off on his beat up tank - “Gross, Gladdy!” - he presented it to her. A thankfully short and shallow cut ruined the softer pad of his thumb, but the blood slowly welled up once more. It dripped along the grooves and and scars in his skin. Iris wiped it clean carefully, taking satisfaction in how Gladio’s expression flickered in discomfort as it stung, and ripped open the package to wrap him up with no complaint. After all, it wasn’t often she got to take care of him considering how foolhardy he could be, and she would cling to it for as long as possible. Mom would ruffle their hair and kiss their tears away from their cheeks. Dad would take their hands and kiss their battle woulds.It was habit among each of them now - there were thousands of kisses amongst their Lestallum group. Welcome and farewell, comfort and joy.

Habitually, Iris leant forward. Gladio sat too far to ruffle the hair he carefully pulled back with Iris’ last tie and despite his whining there were no tears. Instead she pressed her dry lips to Gladio’s new plaster, and then the many others. It might not have done anything for his pain but his tense expression shifted, softening.

“Maybe you should give it up,” she said, giving one last stroke of her thumb over his knuckles. Her nails were subtle against her dark skin. Gladio’s plasters stood stark. The blade between them gleamed. Once, Iris had thought perhaps Gladio could join Prompto and the Marshal’s husband in their makeshift schoolyard, were they used old tales and songs to teach history, coloured chalk on the floor for their art lessons. Perhaps it would take time to master. 

Gladio grunted. “Can’t give up yet,” The half carved wood was unrecognisable and Gladio picked it up again, his duty, his destiny. The edges were harsh like the lines of squares, prominent, and the price to pay for the curves appeared to be Amicitia blood. “It’s not done.”

Between them lay others. Each were low quality fruits of Gladio’s labour but they were made with love and blood. A large rectangle that Iris was informed was supposed to be a lion on the prowl for their godfather. What was intended to be the mane was a block, a shoddy circle with a few messy chunks carved free. After the third cut, the final blow to Gladio’s pride he had shimmed the tip of his blade into the wood, creating small slits for makeshift eyes. A better attempt was his cactuar for Talcott - even approaching eighteen years old, he still balanced those old statuettes on the dashboard of his truck. Gladio found that easier with harder lines but the leg still had a splotch of red from the bend of the knee.

Iris’ nostrils flared when she huffed. “What even is it this time?”

“Ain’t it obvious?” He shot back as he picked up his tools again, traitorous as the blade had proven itself. When Iris snorted, his great shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s a heart. For Iggy.”

The strange point and the dip between rough curves abruptly made some sense. All the suffering didn’t. “I see,” Iris said in a tone that made it clear she didn’t. Gladio remained undeterred and pressed his covered thumb, scraping the sides of the heart carefully.

“It has to be perfect,” Gladio informed her, matter of factly. His focused eyes never left his project. “He has to feel it, and know.”

If nothing else, Iris had to smile. Her brother had always been a stubborn fool old before his times, dedicated and loving, and she adored him for it.

At least until there was another yelp and glimpse of blood, and Iris committed herself to being his exhausted caretaker until the end of time.


	7. Chapter 7

A hand caught Gladio’s rather suddenly, long and clammy fingers curling around his wrist and a familiar voice purred, “My lord Amicitia. A pleasant surprise to see you here.”

It figured, Gladio thought. He had spent the past twenty minutes trying to hunt Ignis down in the teeming crowd of beaming faces, one man in a suit among many, but Ignis had tracked him down all too easily. It was easy to let the salt wash away - he pivoted and squeezed Ignis hand, lacing their fingers together and taking in Ignis’ bright eyes and brighter smile. There was still confetti lost in his unstyled hair.

“My lord Amicitia,” he responded in kind, and his husband of three hours laughed. Stepping in close, Gladio opened his arms wide for an embrace. It was almost too unpleasant to stand close - the sun beat down on them and the shade didn’t stretch far enough, but the thin canopy over the wooden platform they set up for the dance floor would have to serve them well and Gladio didn’t care when Ignis slotted so perfectly against him. Around them the platform was brimming with other couples and close friends. Here they could sway undisturbed - none would intervene on a private moment between lovers.

All evening they had been cornered by well meaning friends and colleagues. Their arms had been filled with kindly wedding gifts. Congratulations on their marriage were welcome but it was harder and harder with each hour for the two of them to steal a moment together. Gladio’s grumbled complaints had only been faced with Ignis’ laughter.  _ We have the rest of our lives to be alone together _ , he had pointed out, and Gladio knew he was right. But he knew he had always been a selfish man, and he would always want more of Ignis’ undivided attention.

Gladio’s chin was tickled by Ignis’ hair. Sometimes Gladio thought Ignis was made to fit against his chest, just shorter than him enough lay comfortably and listen to his heart. Other couples around them found those who had fit with them perfectly, hand slotting into hand and smiles made just for each other. They all relaxed under the summer sun, basking in the cool winds that caught leaves and flowers through the citadel’s gardens. 

Lunafreya remained a wallflower out by the fountains, smiling politely and having a few spins with any who asked, though Crowe was never too far to stage a rescue. Gladio wondered if anyone had considering pointing out that there was lipstick print on the princess’ cheek the exact same shade as her girlfriends. Not far from them was the Prince with his own lover, Prompto as snap happy as always. As lazy as Noctis could be it seemed he didn’t mind being jostled as long as Prompto kept smiling.

There were few days when the entire world seemed to be at peace. Even fewer days to bask in it, the two of them pulled apart by duty for long days. But today every face was smiling, and Gladio’s heart was fully at peace.

Ignis exhale, his shoulders sinking. There wasn’t an an ounce of tension in his body. “This is perfect,” he murmured, as music filled the air. Iris had chosen the setlist and done well, labouring over the songs for weeks. Gladio found the music was the last thing on his mind with Ignis in his arms, eyes still closed and expression serene. Instead of his most expensive cologne, as Gladio expected, he smelt of lavender. A bubble bath, he thought, what Ignis only set time aside for when he was truly anxious. That morning Gladio had been pacing, nerves frayed at their very edges, all those what if’s like claws in his chest. He didn’t want to think about Ignis’ killer anxiety.

All those worries for naught. The ceremony had gone flawlessly and now matching rings gleamed on their fingers.

“It is,” Gladio agreed, and they began to sway softly in the middle of it all. Cor moved past them with his own husband in his arms, the two of them over the moon together in their love and sharing some sweet words Gladio would never be privy to. Libertus and Nyx stepped out into the fray, whispering and laughing, but the fell into step automatically. Iris was somewhere, god only knew where - making sure the world was on its best behaviour, he supposed. Gladio hadn’t ever felt safer, not even with a blade in his own hand. “Thank you, Iggy,” he murmured, caught up in the music and the tranquility of the moment. “For everything, I mean.”

Ignis lifted his head, eyes curious. He was met head on with the softest kiss Gladio could give. He had brought sugar scrub and everything, working hard to make the kiss that sealed their vows breathtaking. Ignis laughed against him, never once letting go of his hand, for even a moment. All too soon they were breaking apart only for Ignis to surge forward again, stealing his husband away.

“And thank you for agreeing to be mine,” Ignis returned, like it was a transaction, and Gladio suppressed his laughter as best he could but couldn’t withhold his grin. “My only regret is that my proposal was not more romantic, and… collected.”

It might have not been what Gladio dreamed of. In his youth he had expected either candlelight and soft romance or a dashing adventure with risk but great reward - either would have been acceptable, but he had gotten Ignis blurting out a proposal with no ring, no sweet words planned for something that had come on a whim, all from his heart. Gladio in his track pants and Ignis’ shirt stained with his sweat, dinner overboiling on the stove, but Gladio could never dream of anything better.

“It wouldn’t be us if it wasn’t a little messy, Igs,” he said, pressing another kiss to Ignis’ sweaty temple. There was a sheen across his cheeks, and a light to his delighted eyes. 

Ignis hummed, and settled his head back down on Gladio’s shoulder.

“I love you,” he said, nudging his nose against the hard edge of him, and Gladio nuzzled his nose into his hair and took in the scent of his husband and the beauty of the world around them.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, at officialcorleonis!


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